


the happiest of hearts here that the world has ever known

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Disney World, M/M, Schmoop, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Weddings, engagements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And Chris can’t help the widening of his eyes, because, like, Orlando only really means one <span class="u">thing</span>.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Sebastian snickers at him openly.</i></p><p>  <i>“You’re not a hard man to please, you realize that, right?”</i></p><p> </p><p>Sebastian takes Chris to Disney World. But not just for the hell of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the happiest of hearts here that the world has ever known

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> You can do [this](http://www.today.com/style/your-dream-wedding-cinderella-s-castle-disney-world-can-now-t90236) now. Someone had to write about it.

The flight should be the first clue.

Because while Sebastian’s not a nervous flier, exactly, there’s always a quiet in him on takeoff and landing. Chris has never pushed the point, but Sebastian’s granted him one of those precious nuggets of his inner world without prompting, just because he can. 

( _I don’t like not being in control of it. My own coming and going. Escape and then return_.) 

Sebastian just now, however, is a chatty little fuck from acceleration on down the runway, and while Chris isn’t particularly tipped off by the surprise trip, really, because they do treat one another to little get-aways when Chris gets antsy, anxious, or Sebastian gets faraway, melancholy, the chattiness on the flight, before they’re in the air.

That should have been enough of a hint that something was up.

“Four weeks, Chris. What are we even going to do with _four weeks_ of time off, the both of us, at the same time?”

“I can think of a few things,” Chris relaxes into his seat as the wheels retract and they take to the sky. He spares an extra glance at Sebastian (as if that’s a trial), but nothing. He’s perfectly calm. Smiling even, if only just softly. Some private, but radiant sort of joy.

God, but he’s exquisite. 

“And obviously you’ve planned another one, now.”

“Mmm,” Sebastian hums agreement on a wavelength that trills in Chris’s pulse, tilting his head back over the seat, letting his eyes drift closed. “Just hoping you’ll like it.” 

“You’re giving it to me,” Chris reaches over and threads their hands together. “‘Course I’m gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Sebastian’s smile widens, though his eyes stay closed, and muscle memory guides him to his perfect spot partway propped on Chris’s shoulder, partway curled against his chest. He sighs contentedly and murmurs.

“Gonna nap.”

And that should be the second clue, because Sebastian can never sleep in the air.

“Okay,” Chris says, the veins of him suddenly ablaze with concern. “You alright?” he reaches, maneuvers his arm to card through Sebastian’s hair.

“Perfect,” Sebastian exhales, and truly: it sounds honest. “Keep doing that,” he adds, a little imperious but the effect is ruined by the way he unfurls against Chris’s body heat, and Chris chuckles, just a little, and keeps stroking through Seb’s hair.

“Yessir.”

Sebastian doesn’t take long to doze, which leaves Chris to muse idly as he keeps his word and tends to stroking through the slight waves of Sebastian’s tousled locks, watching the rise and fall of his partner’s chest in steady oscillation, catching the platinum band on his own fourth finger like a beacon, a testament of some larger force and power shone against those deep-dark strands.

His fiancé shifts, snuffles adorably, and presses slightly open lips to Chris’s collarbone in his sleep, and Chris feel warmth suffuse him from head to foot. How he got this fucking lucky is beyond him, a mystery of the universe he’ll never dream of solving. But he knows a blessing when he sees it, when it wakes up smiling at him from the circle of his arms every morning in their bed, and Chris knows how to be grateful for a blessing. 

So hopefully that’s enough.

He lets his mind wander a little in the face of the glint of his ring: he’d proposed, but Sebastian had already had a ring for his own plans stashed away, so they both wear that promise on their left hands for now. They’ve talked idly about a date, about what a wedding would look like: nothing like Chris imagined as a kid, growing up, and he feels almost lighter for that, because _Sebastian_ is like nothing Chris could have imagined, and so the imaginings of animated classics and old family photos could never suit this man before him; could never hold a goddamn candle to all that he is and gives and breathes.

And yes, Chris has got anxious now and again for that unanswered _when_ that’s rarely put in words, because those closest to them know that it niggles at Chris’s worried mind: worried that he’s taking too long, that he’ll make Sebastian think he’s not ready, or not thrilled, or worse: having second thoughts, which he could never, not _ever_ , but yes. Chris has got anxious over the lingering questions of the when, the where, the how.

Just never the why, because to come to that question makes his heart gallop whimsically, and the _why_ , hell.

That’s not even a _question_.

He gets a little lost in the way his own steady breath ruffles Sebastian’s hair for what might be minutes, might be hours. It’s transfixing, just watching this man and feeling love stretch his heart so fucking wide. It’s so much more than he ever envisioned he could feel, ever dreamed that he could have or be.

The fasten seatbelt sign lights with a _ding_ and Sebastian stirs.

“We there already?”

“Apparently,” Chris kisses his cheek, creased red from the collar of Chris’s shirt. “Wherever ‘there’ is.”

Sebastian grins, still a little sleepy. “You’ll see, soon enough.”

“Want me to close my eyes for landing?”

Sebastian seems to consider for a second before shaking his head. 

“Naw, you’ll figure it out quick either way, and I’m not blindfolding you all the way to the hotel.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Chris replies with a touch of heat, and Sebastian laughs that little, subtle, short-sweet thing that sends Chris’s pulse fluttering.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, nipping at Chris’s earlobe as he whispers close: “We’ll get to that later.”

*****

Sebastian was right: he figures it out quick.

“Orlando?”

And Chris can’t help the widening of his eyes, because, like, Orlando only really means one _thing_.

Sebastian snickers at him openly.

“You’re not a hard man to please, you realize that, right?”

Chris leans over in the back of the car and kisses him, long and hard and with a fuckton of feeling.

“I love you,” he says against Seb’s lips, glancing from that red mouth to those ocean eyes.

Sebastian leans just that little hint forward to kiss him back, softer, quicker, before he murmurs, contentedness in every letter of each word:

“I know.” 

And what that does to Chris is beyond explanation, because they both fought their demons to believe in one another without a shred of question of doubt, but on this, Sebastian worked harder, Sebastian’s route was more uphill, but he _knows_.

He knows, and Chris’s heart fucking _sings_.

*****

“Look!”

Which, Chris admits, is not the first time he’s exclaimed loudly and pointed and nearly hopped up and down in excitement since they entered a park that feels more familiar than some cities Chris has actually _lived_ in, for extended periods of time. So he probably shouldn’t be surprised when it takes Sebastian an extra moment to listen and actually do the looking. 

But this time, _this time_...

“Oh my god,” Chris breathes, squinting at the Castle and watching the carriage and seeing a woman in white and a man in a tux and too many matching dresses and color-coordinated waistcoats and that is, that’s…

“Are they…” and they _are_ , Chris realizes. 

Those people are getting _married_. At _Disney World_.

“Can you imagine?” Chris almost gasps, a little breathless somehow for the kid in him that’s never gonna grow up, never gonna fade and he’s never really wished him to; he watches as the groom extends a hand to his bride and they enter the Palace that defines the skyline, that hoardes the glitter-gleaming magic of it all, and god, Chris thinks back to what he defined a wedding by as a kid: Disney films. The Little Mermaid on the ship. The dancing in Sleeping Beauty, or Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella and her gleeful waving to everybody watching just to celebrate such joy.

He can’t stop the grin on his face, thinking of how impossibly perfect the moment has to be.

“I can, yeah.”

And Chris turns away from the spectacle of cookie-cutter, fantasy-glazed romance unfolding in the flesh at the odd tone in Sebastian’s voice, because Chris knows that voice. Knows it like he knows his own heartbeat, like he knows how deep his lungs can draw a breath.

“Seb?”

Sebastian swallows, and the heartbeat that Chris knows in himself starts to run a little faster, a little harder.

“This is entirely up to you,” Sebastian says seriously, head ducked so that his eyes glance up through those impossible lashes. “It can be done, or undone, in the blink of an eye.”

“Seb,” Chris’s voice is low, almost harsh because the gravity, the weight on Sebastian’s features is a dangerous thing in Chris’s chest, it worries him, and he’s about to reach out, about to draw black clouds into this sunny, pastel-perfect paradise of lights and sounds and perfect dreams, but then Sebastian’s handing him something. Papers.

It takes Chris a second to realize that he’s probably meant to read them.

Right.

His eyes skim the first few lines: printouts, and a pamphlet, and legal documents and it takes another few seconds for it all to click, because Chris’s head may have been there in the abstract, at a distance, but not, not, _here_.

Not for _them_.

“Sebastian,” he breathes, and looks up with wonder at the way Sebastian’s chewing at his lip. “You didn’t,” and Sebastian’s face falls for a second, which Chris can’t have, so he doesn’t hesitate to grab for Sebastian’s arm and hold on _hard_ , his grip shaking because oh my god.

Oh my _god_. 

“You,” and Chris can barely say things, can barely put words together around the rabbit-thump of his heart because this is real, isn’t it, this is his _life_ and his _love_ and Sebastian’s looking at him like he’s starting to see that Chris’s incoherence is for pure and unadulterated _joy_ , because Sebastian knows him, too.

“You?” is the best that Chris manages, and Sebastian finally grips Chris by the biceps and smiles soft, offers a nod.

“Both our families have tickets and a ride to the airport to make it for the morning, all they need is a call to say it’s on,” and oh, of course Sebastian is perfection. Of _course_ he knew Chris would want to share this, of _course_. 

“They can be here, time to spare, if this is something you want,” Sebastian assures him, and then ducks his head again, more of a tilt this time. Bashful. “I know we haven’t set plans, or hashed anything out, and I’m in no hurry if you’re not,” Sebastian looks up then, eyes wide and sincere. “This isn’t a push, it’s just...”

“Shut up,” Chris cuts him off with a laugh, with a kiss, with his heart behind his tongue to be tasted and felt and consumed by one Sebastian Stan forever and for always and nothing less than that.

Sebastian, with the way he responds to the kiss, is more than happy to abide by Chris’s wishes.

“I love you,” Chris gasps into him, in the hopes that his breath will float the blood that pumps into that precious heart that’s _his_ somehow, Jesus _Christ_. “And I would marry you in a Vegas drive-through, just to _be_ your husband. But this,” Chris marvels, feels his heart start to pound and his emotions start to choke in his throat as he rasps:

“You’ll do this? For _me_?”

Sebastian glances to the wedding wrapping up in the distance before he steps closer to Chris and cups his cheek in his hand. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he vows, deeper than any they’ve yet to exchange, because they’ve given their whole selves long ago, already. “But you’re saying that like this is a trial,” Sebastian huffs, presses quick lips to the corner of Chris’s slowly-blooming grin. “I’ve loved my share of Disney, on a more modest level,” he stipulates, with a quirk of a brow, which makes Chris laugh as his emotions start to stream from his eyes without permission, though that’s nothing new.

But then Sebastian’s framing his face with both hands, and looking at him with so much love, and saying: “And I’ve loved my share of _you_ with all the love I’ve got.” 

And Chris, quite suddenly, is done for. Chris, quite suddenly, is the happiest man in the world when moments before he was certain he couldn’t possibly _be_ happier.

“My prince fucking charming,” Chris breathes, and kisses Sebastian deep as he can, one more time before he grins, and nods, and says: “Let’s make some phone calls.”

*****

They get the park before it opens. It’s just the two of them, their people, and what it means to commit to a love Chris never thought he’d ever get to see and wonder at, and whisper _mine_.

Sebastian’s in black with a deep red underneath ( _kiss de boy_ , he sings seductively under his breath, and Chris doesn’t think he’s ever laughed so hard, so freely in his entire life, like his soul is happy to escape with Sebastian there to hold it and savor it while it’s dancing) where Chris himself is in stately, movie-magic cream colors, and god, this is his life, his real _life_.

The vows they exchange bring tears to both their eyes, even if they’re nothing they haven’t said before. The rings they exchange are beautiful, simple but elegant with a little bit of the fanciful where they curl against a palm, where they’d touch when their hands entwined, and it’s perfect. Chris’ll even be cheesy enough to call it magical, because it damn well is.

Stripping the love of his life, who is _his_ for the _rest_ of their lives -- stripping him out of his fairytale finery that night, though, with the promise of _four weeks_ of just them, just this, on top of this newly solidified foundation of always? Chris never would have thought it possible before, but.

 _That_ is _considerably_ more than just ‘magical’.


End file.
